


His Downfall

by Venomflight



Category: Metal Fight Beyblade | Beyblade: Metal Fusion
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 17:02:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20231314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venomflight/pseuds/Venomflight
Summary: Julian battles with his thoughts before crawling back to Ziggurat.





	His Downfall

**Author's Note:**

> Just to note: I am aware that at points this portrays Julian as a victim. In a way, I think he was, but I don't think that excuses betraying his friends and the like. This one shot is me trying to see the situation from Julian's eyes.

He was _weak._

Knees drawn up to his chest, sat amongst the pillows and blankets on his bed. Soft, just as he’d been. Once unyielding, strong he had stood, until he’d been cast into hellfire and melted down, to be made into a twisted kind of trophy; but this was not his victory. 

Julian’s breathes were slow and laboured. He was suffering. 

How could he have let this happen? It was bad enough, losing to Gingka and his team. Some kid and his so called ‘bey spirit’ had smeared mud over his line of flawless victories, and therefore his name. He had failed then, but he had worked harder than ever before after that - no! He was making excuses for himself again. 

His hands gripped at the duvet by his sides. It had been a stumble, a fall. He was supposed to make a smooth recovery, to assume his position on top as he should’ve always been. 

It had not happened, and this… this was more than a fall. He barely had his feet flat on the ground before he’d been hit by a freight train of unnatural power, the strength knocking the breath out of his lungs and leaving him cold. Losing to Gingka was like ripping a plaster off a wound compared to his loss to Damian. 

It was not dramatic to refer to Damian as his own personal Satan. That thing was everything Julian feared in one person; cruel; seemingly nothing to lose; more powerful than himself. His opponent had torn him, his pride, his reputation, just _everything_ he stood for to shreds.

_While laughing._

Julian clenched his teeth, the image of Damian’s soulless eyes, with their maddening gleam boring into his skull. His heart rate picked up slightly at the memory, and a shiver down his back followed. 

The shiver became a tremble. His loss was an action. All actions had consequences. 

He squeezed his eyes shut. He was already being ridiculed by the press, over almost every type of media, by bladers and non bladers all over the world. Julian had seen the online articles that had popped up mere hours after the battle. They mocked him, most even approved of his loss, saying he deserved it. Did he?

Julian didn’t understand. It was his role to succeed, to win and to be perfect. It was the destiny of one born into the Konzern family, a legacy he was expected to uphold. Was he wrong to want to be as successful as the rest of his family? Was it wrong to pursue it in such a driven and focused manner as he had done? Those degrading him made it seem so. But, they were wrong, surely? They didn’t have to live up to the perfect futures laid out for them like he did. They didn’t understand! None of them did.

They didn’t understand that this isn’t fair. They said he had everything handed to him on a silver platter. They were **_wrong._** He may live in a fancy mansion, his family may have an awful lot of money - but he worked for what he wanted, he always has. Julian had always had a conscientious streak, and he worked tirelessly for his skills and success in everything, from studying, to horse riding, to piano playing to even his blading. He had worked for this! So why was his rightful victory ripped from his weary fingertips like that? Why did they think he deserved it?! 

His shaking morphed, stemming from a creeping rage instead of his deep rooted sorrow. Oh, the pain was still there. Yet the blanketed fury was steering his eyes towards the horizon. The sun was setting on him now, yet it would rise again. Not of it its own means, though. 

Julian’s eyes flew open as thoughts hit him. He would make it rise on him again. His father was not yet home. There was time to get away. Then he froze again, thoughts whirring. A man’s words rang in his head. A taunting promise of a fraction of what he’d had, for the price of his loyalty…

His gaze caught sight of a picture on his dresser. His brother’s smile beaming from his face was Julian’s favourite aspect of all of his family photographs: their father’s stern expression, not so much. He started to shake again, tears stinging Julian’s eyes at the mere thought of facing his father’s wrath. The terror reached further than it would if he ever faced Damian again, way past chilling his blood and instead freezing the marrow in his bones. His father was not a forgiving man, and he did not settle for less than the best in anything, especially in regards to his heir. 

He would not accept this. Neither would Julian. 

His body was still once more. Julian stood roughly from his bed, entering his bathroom. He splashed water on his face before staring hard at himself in the mirror. Was the price worth the rewards? If he wasn’t so hollow inside, Julian might’ve laughed. It wasn’t like he had anything left at this point. Everything he’d cherished is gone. There wasn’t anything left to fight for. 

_“... I will at least leave the good name of you and the Konzern family intact, does that sound fair?”_

… No, it didn’t. But it was the only choice he had. 

Julian turned away from the mirror, no longer being able to cope with looking himself in the eye. He marched out of his room, a new resolve settling into him. He could not truly recover all that he’d lost, but at least this would be something. Julian reached into his pocket as he walked, feeling the paper against his fingers. The note had a location and a phone number. He knew what he had to do. 

His throat was burning from having to swallow his pride so much, but he’d have to live with it. His failures had led to this, so he should - and would - suffer the consequences. 

Julian clenched his fists. There was no time to dwell on it; he had an opportunity to salvage something from the ruins of this mess. Had no other choice, he had to. He went onwards, departed from his home. 

Unaware that this was more than his defeat: this was his downfall.

**Author's Note:**

> I am aware that in canon it seems like Julian stayed with Ziggurat once the deal was proposed, but I think it would have been more humiliating for Julian to go crawling back to Ziggurat after initially declining the offer. As if Julian hasn't suffered enough aha. Also yeah, this uses some kind of dramatic imagery and whatnot, it's Julian after all.


End file.
